Witchester
by Marion Hood
Summary: Hermione discovers a family she never even knew about. But there isn't a length she won't go to to keep them safe. Accompanying fic to "Heels"


Hermione Granger froze as she read through the file.

Birth Certificate for Hermione Winchester.

Foster Application for Hermione Winchester.

Trial Period for Hermione Winchester.

Adoption of Hermione Winchester.

Application for name change of Hermione Winchester with London County Council.

And then Hermione Winchester vanished. To be replaced with Hermione Granger.

Hermione's application to Primary School.

Her first letter from Hogwarts.

Her exam results.

She closed the folder. Paused and then flipped it back open again. It was a normal folder.

It was like the dozen others which had lined the shelves of her fathers office. Except he wasn't her father. Was he?

She traced her fingers over her birth certificate. Mother-Unknown. Father-John Winchester.

She tapped the paper with her wand, just to check. That this wasn't some cruel prank. Some horrid trick. The spell was supposed to change the colour of a forged document. The creamy white stayed stubbornly pale.

She crossed the room to her fathers computer and logged on. It took her some time but using the certificate for reference she eventually found a number for the South Dakota Office of Vital Records. She did the calculation in her head. It was late here so, the department should be open for business.

The curly haired witch dialed the number with shaking fingers.

There was a long pause as the long distance call connected and then it rang twice before it was picked up.

"Records Office, how may I help you?" Hermione winced at the overly perky American accent and drew in a deep breath.

"Hello, my name is Hermione. I've just found my birth certificate and I was wondering if you could tell me if my father is still alive."

There was a pause.

"Shouldn't you know if he's alive or not?"

"I'm adopted. Apparently." Hermione rubbed her temples, already regretting this.

"All right." There was the faint tapping as the woman typed something out on her keyboard. "I'm going to need your full name first."

"Hermione Jean...Winchester." She'd always thought Granger fitted wrong. Similar to when you imagined yourself with a fake name. They never seemed to balance right.

"Okay. And your date of birth?"

"The nineteenth of September 1979."

More tapping.

"Okay that's brilliant. Now have you got a copy of your birth certificate on hand?"

Hermione nodded and then remembered she was on the phone and not using the Floo. It had been a long time since she'd done anything the muggle way. Perhaps too long.

"Yes."

"Could you tell me the serial number on the bottom please?"

Hermione read it out and waited patiently.

"Hermione Winchester, born 1979, no listed reference to mother, father-John Winchester. That correct?"

"Yes."

"Right then. I'll run a search for John Winchester." A pause, then. "I'm sorry. John Winchester was registered as deceased several months ago."

Hermione paused.

She felt no grief, but then why would she? She'd never met the man.

"Are there any living relatives listed?"

"Actually yes. Mr Winchester had two sons. Sam and Dean of the same name. We have no listed addresses for either of them."

"Thank you for your help." Hermione said, keeping her voice calm.

"You're very welcome. Have a nice day now."

Hermione put the phone down.

South Dakota. She could get a portkey to South Dakota. Everyone thought she'd be in Australia for the next month anyway, fetching home her parents.

She wasn't. She couldn't. The memory spell would be permanent. It was perhaps the greatest and most terrible magic she'd ever done. To completely wipe her existence from the memories of her parents. But she couldn't tell Harry and Ron. Harry would only blame himself and he had enough on his shoulders as it was. She wouldn't have him taking the blame for this too.

She'd been planning to clear out their house anyway and put it up for sale.

There was no reason she couldn't go to America.

* * *

This was madness.

Insane.

Even Luna wouldn't do this and Hermione was 85% sure that Luna was certifiable.

Hermione ignored the voice in her head as she marched towards the International Portkey Office. It turned out that with five galleons you could go most anywhere in the world. Especially if you were Hermione Granger.

She ignored the stares that she collected as she strode briskly down the corridor. The war was just barely over and she was only just out of the papers. And by only just she meant yesterday.

The Golden Trio, they'd been dubbed.

She scoffed.

There was nothing golden about it.

Her portkey left at three O clock and she arrived in the Office of the local Wizarding enclave. It didn't take long to fill out the relevant paper work and soon she was on the streets of muggle America. As wizards had little interest in muggle capitals, they enclaves were built where ever the largest population existed. In this case Sioux Falls. The buildings were mostly red brick or timber and the air was warm, almost stiflingly hot, compared to the damp cold of London.

Hermione quickly got off the main streets and into a quiet alleyway. She pulled out her wand and made a small cut in the palm of her hand, which she then rested her wand on, making sure the blood made contact with the vine wood.

"Point me." She whispered.

Normally location spells didn't work on people unless you knew them well or had a strong connection. Hermione was hoping that shared blood would do the trick. It was a faint hope.

The wand quivered for a moment before twisting and pointing north.

Hermione walked, stopping occasionally to adjust the spell. She soon left the city boundaries behind and was quickly into countryside and farm land.

It took an hour and a half to reach her destination and when she got here Hermione wasn't even sure that the spell had worked.

It was a junk yard, that much was obvious from the cemetery of dead and gutted motor vehicles as well as the arch across the entrance.

Singer Salvage Yard.

The ground was dusty and bare underfoot and Hermione wandered across it slowly. There was a quiet sort of reverence here, like one you'd find in a graveyard. You were afraid to talk and disturb the silence. At the centre of the vehicles was a house and a collection of out buildings. The house was typical of the area. It had a veranda and white wooden trimmings. All the windows had glass, but it had a dusty, worn look, like it had been through a war zone and was only just standing. However it looked more inviting than the bleak house of Grimmald and in better condition than the ruin Hogwarts was currently.

She glanced around. No one appeared to be in sight.

Casting the spell again, her wand pointed straight forward.

The house it was then.

She walked forward, tucking her wand up her sleeve, past the highly polished black car and the dusty truck. Up the steps and then she was at the door.

She paused. Was this the best idea? If she left now they'd never even know she was here. Did they even know she existed? What if her brothers were married? Or had children? She could be ruining something special by turning up.

She knew she was just inventing excuses. There was no sign of any female presence and it wasn't the sort of place to raise children.

_Where's your Gryffindor bravery now mudblood?_

Hermione flinched and pushed the memory to the back of her mind, bolstered her courage and knocked.

Nothing happened for a moment and Hermione shifted on her heels slightly. Then the door opened and a man was there. He was too old to be one of her brothers, or at least she hoped so. He wore denim and plaid and a baseball cap on top of a whiskered and tanned face.

"Mr Singer?" She guessed.

"Depends whose asking."

Hermione blushed, knocking the toes of her boots together.

"I'm looking for Sam or Dean Winchester. Are they here?"

The man's stance changed becoming protective and suspicious. He rested one hand behind his back and Hermione shifted uneasily. She could always Apparate away from a fight, Statute of Secrecy be damned, but she wasn't sure if she'd be fast enough to escape a bullet.

"Now why would you want to know that?"

Hermione sighed and tried to peer behind him. He just shifted so his body filled the doorway.

"Are they here or not?"

The man frowned. It looked like his natural expression.

"Christo." He said clearly.

"Beg pardon?"

"Nothing. Hang on a sec." He turned slightly. "DEAN! GET YOUR ASS TO THE FRONT DOOR!"

Hermione blushed again and shifted awkwardly on her feet, unused to such gruffness. She'd grown used to the Weasley family and it's welcoming embrace. This was quite obviously different.

She groaned quietly, earning her a strange look from Mr Singer. This had been such a bad idea.

A tall man, only a few years older than herself, bounded up the corridor and raised an eyebrow expectantly. Hermione couldn't help but look for similarities between them. They both had brown hair, although his was short and straight. His eyes were green to her brown and his features much stronger than hers. All in all they didn't look related. The look in his eyes was familiar though. It was the look Hermione had sported for several days after the Battle at Hogwarts. Expectant of an attack, but confidant enough that she'd be able to fight and win.

"Hello." She said. What else could she say really?

"Hi. Who're you?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"Are you Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah. Who're you?"

"I'm Hermione. Hermione Winchester."

Using her new surname felt strange and years of practise begged her to correct her statement.

"What are related to me or something?"

"Or something."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and yelled over his shoulder.

"OI Sammy!" He smiled. It wasn't comforting. "You might wanna take a look at this."

The urge to Apparate away and forget the whole thing grew stronger as a third man walked up. Sam Winchester. He was a veritable giant, especially compared to Hermione's petite form. He too had brown hair but he wasn't overly familiar either. Maybe they weren't related after all.

_Then the location spell wouldn't have worked._

"Who's this?" He asked, looking much more relaxed.

Hermione swallowed and took a step back.

"Says her name is Hermione Winchester."

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"What, like our kind of Winchester?"

Dean looked at her in question and she nodded, pinching her sleeve with her fingertips, fighting the urge to flee.

"Apparently."

Sam smiled and it looked a lot more friendly than his brother.

"Hello Hermione." He held out a hand, which Hermione shook carefully. "So what are you? A cousin or something?"

"Or something." Hermione repeated, smiling back. It felt nice to smile. Even if he was a stranger.

"And she's British!" Sam grinned as though this made her a rare treasure. He glanced around at his brother and nodded.

"Why don't you come in and tell us about this something?" The men cleared back from the door and for the first time Hermione noticed the strange markings drawn over the thresh hold. They looked familiar but she couldn't remember where she'd seen them before.

"Ok."

They seemed to watch with bated breath as she stepped right over the strange pentacle and all visibly relaxed when she moved further into the hall. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right here.

Dean grinned.

"Right beer's anyone? Hermione?"

"I'm all right. Thank you."

"Okay."

They settled into a living room that was in better condition than the exterior of the house. Every wall was lined with books and objects and Hermione was almost twitching to get up and examine them. Dean brought back a handful of bottles and they settled on the sofa, watching her.

"So..." Mr Singer asked. "Ya gonna tell us what "or somethin" means?"

Hermione blushed and rummaged in her bag for the photocopy of her birth certificate. The real one, and most of the contents of her parents house were stored down the bottom of the bag.

Wordlessly she passed it across to Dean.

He sat in silence as he read it and then passed it to his brother. His only reaction was the tightening of his jaw, as he glowered at her.

"So you're what?" Sam asked. "Our sister?"

"Half sister. I don't think we share the same mother." Hermione bit her lip, gripping her bag tightly. "To be honest I don't know if I'm in the right place, it's just that you were the only Sam and Dean Winchester on record and I just needed to know if you knew anything about this and..."

"Knew?" Dean demanded. "We had no damn idea that you even existed." He turned to his brother. "Can you believe that Dad would just do this?" He gestured wordlessly to Hermione, who began to toy with the idea of wiping their memories.

Sam shrugged and passed the paper to Mr Singer, who took it gingerly.

"I can believe Dad would do a lot of things. Besides accidents happen. She doesn't have a mother listed. I'd guess it was someone he slept with once by mistake and she dumped the baby on him." He turned back to Hermione.

"Where are you from?"

"England. London specifically. I didn't know I was adopted until almost a week ago. I was clearing out my fathers office and I found the folder."

Sam nodded.

"Well then. This has come as a shock to you too." Dean growled something under his breath and stormed off. Sam closed his eyes. It looked like he was counting to ten. Hermione winced.

"I'm sorry Mr Singer. I didn't mean to cause trouble in your household." She stood up. "I should probably be going."

The gruff man stood up and shook his head.

"Ignore Dean. He's an idgit. And call me Bobby. If these two morons can then so can you." He smiled slightly and his voice choked slightly. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby. Tiny little thing you were too."

"Wait, you KNEW about this?" yelled Sam, any semblance of calm vanishing.

Bobby glared at him.

"What kind of an pansy do ya think I am? I didn't know about it. Not really. All I knew was John showed up one day without you boys. He had a baby. She couldn't have been more than a few weeks old."

Hermione frowned.

"So he didn't know who my mother was?"

Bobby shook his head.

"Not a clue. It's like Sam said. You turned up on his motel step one day. With a note with your name on it. Which he burned. I never saw it. And then he got you a birth certificate, registered you and put you up for adoption in England. Damned if I knew why."

"Why did you never tell us?"

"I didn't know she was his. Far as I knew she was just some baby he'd rescued from..." Bobby paused. "A fire."

"Wait a second." Sam frowned at her. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"So this was what? A year or two after Mum died?"

Bobby nodded.

"That'd be about right."

Sam scowled.

"I'm gonna help Dean."

Bobby sighed and gestured Hermione to follow him into the kitchen.

"Where did they go?" She asked quietly.

"Out to fix the car."

"Car?"

"Yeah. Big black Impala out front. It was their dad's." Bobby scoffed slightly. "Your dad's."

He began to pull out bread and stuff to make lunch and Hermione loitered in the doorway, feeling impossibly awkward.

"Do you want a hand?" She asked, feeling the glare of Mrs Weasley across the Atlantic.

Bobby smiled.

"You're a hell of a lot politer than those darn boys." He shook his head. "Unless you can make pie I can manage."

Hermione paused and then shrugged off her coat and bag and sat them neatly in a chair, making sure her wand was well hidden.

"What kind do you want?"

Bobby frowned.

"You can make pie?" He demanded, as though it was an impossible task.

Hermione nodded, grateful for the cooking skills Mrs Weasley had believed that every young witch should know. Even if she did believe that they were the _only_ skills a young witch should know.

"If you've got the ingredients then I can make pie."

Bobby smiled.

"Well I'll be damned. Ya might just fit in here after all."

* * *

It turned out to be apple pie, because that was all Bobby had in the way of fruit. It didn't take long either. Molly's recipes usually didn't. They were designed to feed a lot of people, very quickly. Eventually the smell of baking pastry lured Dean back inside. He stood in the doorway glowering at Hermione. Or at least he did, until she pulled the finished pie out of the oven.

Molly was right. Hermione realised as she watched the boyish grin spread across Dean's face. You can win battles with food.

"SAMMY!" He bellowed as though he was witnessing a miracle. "SHE MADE PIE!"

Bobby chuckled as Sam barreled through the house. Both brothers looked at the sandwiches on the table, the pie and then at Hermione, standing nervously by the cooker.

They sat down to eat.

Bobby glowered at Dean when he started eating without cutlery.

"What were you raised in a barn? We have a lady at the table, ya idgits."

Hermione chuckled.

"It's all right. I've seen much worse." Namely Ron when presented with any food what so ever.

"Where? A pigsty?"

Hermione just smiled and ate her sandwich.

"So tell us about yourself Hermione?"

"Like what?" She asked warily.

"Who adopted you? Were they nice people?"  
She nodded, smiling fondly.

"The best. They never gave me reason to doubt I was their child. They were dentists."

Sam beamed at her.

"Dentists." He repeated, glaring meaningfully at his brother. "That's wonderfully normal."

She frowned.

"Why, is normal in short supply around here?"

Both brothers froze for a moment and then chuckled.

"Course not."

"What happened to your hand?" Dean asked, pointing to her finger, which had a plaster on it.

"Oh that was my fault." Bobby chuckled, giving Dean a strange look. "I nudged her when she was cutting apples and she cut herself with the silver cooking knife."

Dean nodded.

"So what do you two do for a living?"

Sam and Dean glanced at Bobby who shrugged.

"We're hunters."

Hermione frowned and her brain finally made the connection.

"Demon hunters?" She asked quietly, wondering if she would wandlessly summon her wand from her.

All three men froze.

"Now why would you ask a thing like that?" Bobby asked, scowling slightly.

Hermione swallowed. Snape had been right. Being a know-it-all really would get you into trouble.

"It's the only conclusion I can draw. You have runes and sigils from various religions designed to keep out evil. There is a lot of salt in your cupboards. Either you are very superstitious, or you are genuinely trying to keep something, I don't want to know about, out. That and there are no hunting trophies on the walls. Just a look of books on the occult." She laid down her fork, but didn't let go of her knife, and smiled at them, trying to do her best to channel Luna. She hoped they wouldn't shoot her.

Dean smirked.

"Well I'll be damned. What and you just accepted the knowledge of the supernatural like that...?"

She nodded.

"I grew up in England. In the last few years something has been going on. Didn't you know?" She shrugged. "It must not have reached the American news. Besides I studied a lot of this stuff at school. Although obviously not to such a depth as you have."

Dean laughed slightly and took a large bite of pie.

"Damn that's good. You're like Sammy. He reads."

Sam flushed slightly and punched Dean's shoulder.

"I research. Ignore my brother. He's an idiot."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Sam smiled smugly. "What sort of things were happening over there?"

"Strange disappearances, the whole country was shrouded in fog for months on end, bridges fell, house blew up for no apparent reasons. The whole country got a little bit more accepting of the supernatural." Hermione sighed, glad she'd taken the time to read up on the muggle news. She'd missed a lot, being on the run for a year.

"Who cares how she worked it out?"

Sam and Bobby turned to Dean in amazement. He closed his arms around his plate protectively.

"She can make pie!"

Hermione laughed, relaxing slightly.

"Where are you going to stay tonight?"

She bit her lip, chasing the last bit of pastry with a fork.

"I was planning to stay in town. Rent a room for the night, after that I don't know. I'm here on a whim really."

Sam and Dean turned a slightly pleading look on Bobby, Dean still cradling his plate.

"Idgits." He muttered. "I've got a spare room upstairs. You can stay here."

"I couldn't put you out like that Mr Singer."

"You wouldn't be. Besides these boys ought to get to know you. And it's Bobby. Mr Singer makes me sound old."

Hermione bit her lip but nodded. She had her wand. She'd be safe enough.

"Hermione?" Sam asked cautiously, interrupting her inner risk assessment. "What happened to your parents?"

She winced.

"Missing or dead. The police suspect dead." She paused biting her lip. "Or at least after this long they do. They vanished in the strangeness of last year. I just sold their house, which was when I found the birth certificate. Put their belongings into storage. Grabbed a plane here."

"I'm sorry." And Sam looked like he genuinely meant it.

Hermione just wished more of her story was true.

* * *

Sam and Dean watched her from across the room. Both had their arms folded on the backs of their chairs and their heads resting on them as they stared at her. Eventually Hermione snapped.

"What?"

"Why are you so small?" Dean asked.

"What?"

He tugged on his ear as he considered the question.

"Well look at us. I'm six foot, Sammy's..." He waved a hand somewhere above his head. "taller. How come you're so small?"

"Bad genetics I suppose."

"So you don't know anything about your real mother?"

She narrowed her eyes at them.

"My real mother was Emma Granger. I have no idea about my birth mother."

"You don't look much like us." Sam noted.

"I only share half your genetics. Truthfully you and Dean don't look that similar." They looked at each other, frowning.

"I've got the same colour hair as you." She pointed out, tugging at her braid. Dean went cross eyed trying to see his short fringe. "Other than that I don't know."

"You must take after you mother." Sam pointed out sensibly.

Hermione paused in turning the page of her book and thought about her magic.

"More than you know." She murmured.

* * *

"We need to talk." Dean barked, folding his arms. Hermione stiffened eyes flicking towards the exits. Most people wouldn't have noticed that. Most people, however, weren't Winchesters.

"About?" She asked cautiously, already cursing herself for being stupid enough to stay here for three days.

"You."

"Ah."

"Yeah." Dean dropped into the chair opposite her and made eye contact. "How did you know we were hunters?"

"I didn't. I knew about the supernatural."

"How? No one normal knows about that."

"You did."

"Well we're not normal. Besides Dad taught us. Family business and the like."

"I learned from books. Mythology and the supernatural were hobbies of mine. I just took the information as wrote."

"How are we supposed to believe that?"

"You're not Dean. I've sprung into your life from nowhere. Genetically speaking I might be family, but really I'm just a stranger. You don't know me from Adam." She sighed and closed her book. "Dean I've been through some trouble. I won't deny it, although I'm not going to tell you about it. I've just lost my parents. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that I have some form of familial connection with someone. I always wanted siblings growing up and believe me I'd love to get to know my new big brothers, but... that's going to take time." She smiled at him and his serious expression melted slightly as the corner of his eyes crinkled. "And that's okay Dean."

* * *

"How do we know we can trust her?"

Dean shrugged.

"Her story checks out. Bobby knows who she is. She even looks like us slightly. What do you want Sam? A DNA test?"

"Don't you think it's a bit too convenient? She just shows up out of nowhere, calls us on being hunters? How the hell did she know that How did she even find us, Dean?" Sam widened his eyes and glared his brother, waving his large hands.

Dean scowled at him.

"Tell me why you're fighting this so much?"

"I'm not. I'm just being rational."

"Bullshit."

Sam sighed.

"We don't get to have family Dean. She is _literally_ too good to be true."

"So what because every other thing in our messed up lives has gone wrong you expect this to?" Dean took a deep drink out of his beer bottle and leaned his hip against the table. "Sam look at her. She's tiny, she'd have to be some kind of freak we've never even come across before to over power all three of us. Besides she bleeds red, the salt checked out. She's human. What more do you want?"

"Dean she jumps where ever someone enters the room. Keeps her back to the corner. She's dangerously thin, covered in scars. She's clearly been through _something_."

Dean smiled slightly.

"Welcome to big brother-hood, Sammy." He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "That horrible worried feeling you've got? Well it sucks. Especially when your bitch of a little brother won't let you keep him safe."

Sam smirked.

"Jerk." He muttered. "So what, we watch out for her?"

"For as long as she's with us."

* * *

"So how long are you in America?" Sam asked.

Hermione paused.

"I'm not sure." She chewed on her lip, hands busy peeling potatoes. "I don't really have anywhere to go. I've got money, I might go home again. My friends would like that."

"Why...why don't you stay here?" He suggested, looking entirely too innocent.

"What in Sioux Falls?"

"With Bobby."

Hermione frowned.

"Why?"

Sam shrugged.

"It's safe here. Cheap. Bobby wouldn't mind."

"No, why do you want me to stay?"

He shrugged again, fiddling with the knife he kept in his pocket.

"It's nice having you around. You can talk about books and school. Dean likes you." Sam shifted uncomfortably, eyes fixed on the floor. "I dunno...It's just..."

"Sam..." Hermione warned. "What do you want?"

"What happened to you over in England?" He asked, slipping the blade back into his pocket.

It was her turn to shrug.

"It doesn't matter. It's in the past."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

Sam nodded his head, more for something to do than actual agreement.

"Can I teach you to shoot?"

The potato slipped out of her hands and onto the floor. She washed it off in the sink before she looked back to him.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Well...I'm your big brother aren't I?"

"Genetically speaking...yes." Her voice was tinged with amusement.

"Dean taught me to shoot. Dad taught him. I should teach you. Besides what with what we do..."

"Hunting."

"Yeah, it's important you know how to protect myself." Sam eye's widened as he rethought his words and noticed the large knife she was using to dice vegetables. "Not that you can't." He assured her. "It's just it would be reassuring for me. And we could get to know each other better."  
Hermione bit her lip as she thought about it. Although one look at Sam's puppy eyes forced her choice.

"Fine. I warn you, I'm not very good at physical sports or stuff."

Sam looked at her, the scar on her neck, her lack of body fat and the subtle muscle that covered most of her body. She looked like a runner. More worryingly she looked like a fighter.

"Right..."

* * *

"Hand out."

Without thinking Hermione held out her right hand, palm up.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered. He traced a finger across the pale lines on her palm. Hermione glanced somewhat guiltily at them. Running diagonally across the palm of her hand was a string of pale runes. There were seven in total, seven being the most magical number (something she was unlikely to ever forget), runes of binding and containment.

Most wizards didn't put much store by Ancient Runes, considering the practice outmoded and ineffective. Which couldn't be further from the truth in Hermione's mind. Prior to the rise in vocal spell work which was the current fashion, magic had been primarily expressed through runes. Some were still in use today, for areas where magic needed to continue without the presence of a wand. For example the taps at Hogwarts. Inside each tap a _vann_ or water rune was inscribed.

However the ones inscribed on Hermione's hand bound her magic. Sam and Dean wouldn't except a witch in their lives. That much was blatantly obvious. And she so wanted to _be_ a part of their lives. The last three weeks had been brilliant. However even if she didn't use her magic, it found ways to escape, causing her to unintentionally break things. She used wandless spells without thinking about it. It was instinctive.

This wasn't a decision she'd taken lightly either. Magic was everything to her. Without it she'd be defenceless, everything would have to be done the muggle way. But it wasn't like it was permanent either. The full ritual, which was done by the Ministry of Magic in cases of wizarding rehabilitation, permanently bound the magic within them. It was where the phrase bound to her bones came from. Or at least in a wizarding context.

Hermione had made some alterations to the spell. If you disrupted the runic array, hopefully, and it was hopefully because Hermione hadn't had time to experiment, her magic should return.

There were advantages. She could still see magical buildings and gaining entrance to the enclave in Sioux Falls wasn't a problem.

"Did you burn yourself?" Sam asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Err yeah. There was a hot piece of metal at school. I wrapped my hand around it. The runes scarred." She flexed her palm. "They don't tend to bother me."

"Huh. Do you know what they mean?" He asked, turning her palm, trying to get the light right to read them.

"No idea." She lied, holding her hand out for the gun.

* * *

Living with Hunters was...interesting to say the least. Singer Salvage Yard lacked the homeliness of the Burrow or the quiet tranquility of her parents London address. It still managed to be a home though. Bobby was gruff by his very nature and his main hobby seemed to be complaining about Sam and Dean. He was like a proud father, who'd somehow managed to raise a pair of idiots and couldn't quite work out how. He did have other emotions, but it took time to work them out. He was proud of the Winchesters. You could see it in his face when they called after a successful hunt. You could see how much he cared for the brothers.

As far as Hermione could tell, he was proud of her as well. Despite knowing her less than a month, Hermione got the idea that he liked having someone in their lives who was at least some kind of normal.

* * *

Harry and Ron showed up the first week in July, unfortunately when her brothers were just back from hunting. Hermione had answered the door and as soon as they'd heard male voices, they'd dragged Hermione off Ron, who she was hugging and each wrapped an arm around her shoulders, glaring at her best friends.

Hermione had laughed.

"Harry, Ron. This is Sam and Dean Winchester. My big brothers. Boys, may I introduce Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, my best friends."

"You didn't tell us you had any siblings Hermione." Harry asked cautiously. He had grown slightly since the last time she'd seen him and put on some weight. Hermione suspected Mrs Weasley. She hoped that the lack of reaction at his name had registered to him.

"I didn't know. I was going through my fathers office and found my adoption papers. Sam and Dean are my half brothers technically."

"So that's why you didn't go to Australia." Ron scowled, ears flushing red. "We were worried about you."

"Why? I'm not due back until next week."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and laughed nervously.

"We went to the..." Harry paused and threw a questioning glance at Hermione, who widened her eyes and shook her head, ever so slightly, something that didn't quite go unnoticed by Dean. "We went to Kingsley in the Ministry. He's Minister now, if you don't know. Anyway according to the records you never got on your flight for Australia. We asked around and apparently you sold your parents house and came here. So we came here to surprise you."

Ron frowned at Harry.

"Hermione hates flying. Why would she..."

Grinning manically, Harry stamped on Ron's foot.

Hermione looked up at Dean who was still glaring at the boys.

"Do you mind if I go and talk with them privately?" She asked. Sam smiled at her and dragged Dean back a step.

"Sure. Go on, have fun."

Dean glared adding.

"Stay where we can see you."

Hermione chuckled, but did as she was told, accepting the flask of holy water Dean pressed into her hand.

"Hermione..." Harry whispered, as soon as they were far enough away from the house. "What's going on here?"

"And why can't we feel your magic?"

Hermione swallowed and tried to prepare for the inevitable outburst.

"I've blocked it. I wasn't using it anyway, it was too risky. And I'm living here."

"With muggles?" Ron hissed, as though she was mad. Which she probably was.

"With my family." She emphasised. If there was one thing a Weasley got, it was family.

"But what about your parents? Are you just going to leave them in Australia?" Ron asked, scowling.

Hermione kicked at a stone and didn't answer.

"Hermione you can reverse the memory charm on your parents can't you?" Harry asked, obviously dreading the answer. Harry had always worn his emotions on his face.

She sighed, slipping the silver flask into her jeans pocket.

"No. I can't. The charm was permanent. I wasn't exactly expecting to survive the war."

Harry's face almost drained of colour and Hermione could almost see him adding her parents to his mental list of "Ways I failed as a hero."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you had enough on your plate. I didn't want to add to it. Besides I know you, Harry Potter. You would have blamed yourself. In fact you are. Right now. Stop it."

"I wouldn't and I'm not." Harry protested, adjusting his glasses.

"Actually mate," Ron chuckled nervously. "You would have."

Harry blushed and changed the subject.

"Are you happy here?" He asked, genuinely serious.

She nodded.

"Believe it or not. Yes I am. Here I'm just Hermione Winchester, little sister of Sam and Dean. No one wants my autograph, no one hates me for my birth or anything like that. It's nice. I'm happy." She grinned at them. "I'm trying to get a job."

"Let me guess..." Ron teased. "At a library?"

She glared at him playfully.

"They said I can do some research work there. I'm thinking about writing a paper on local history."

They both rolled their eyes and smiled at her.

"Hermione were you even going to tell us where you were?"

Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around herself.

"I was actually. I have a letter I was going to send. I wasn't going to cut myself off from you. I've barely been gone a month."

"Yeah and in that month Ron has splinched himself twice and I got hit in the face with a bludger. We need you Hermione."

She smirked, an expression that looked uncannily like Sam.

"Remember your three D's Ron. Harry you get no sympathy for Quidditch related injuries." She smiled. "You can still send me letters. Just address them care of the local wizarding post office and they'll put them in the muggle post for me."

"So your brothers don't know anything about magic."

Hermione bit her lip and considered telling them that they hunted demonic creatures for a living.

Perhaps not a good idea.

"No." She replied. "No, they don't know a thing."

"Huh." Ron blushed slightly, looking at her. "You're looking...good."

She glanced down at herself. The hot American summer had tanned her skin to a light gold, a vast improvement on the pale result of a British winter. She'd put on some weight too. Having Bobby there meant that she had to eat at least two meals a day and she'd gained back what she'd lost on the run. When Sam was home she went running with him, something they both enjoyed. The lack of stress had done her good too. She slept better at night.

She tugged on her flannel shirt subconsciously.

"Thanks. I feel good." She began to lead them back to the house, keeping one eye on the shadow in the upstairs window.

"Hermione?" Ron asked as they began to walk back to the house. "Why did they ask you stay near the house?"

"Well I expect Sam wanted to make sure one of you wasn't going to try anything, and Dean is camped out upstairs with his shotgun. They're very protective of me."

"Will you keep in touch?" Harry asked quietly as Ron went pale, a childhood of Mad Muggle cartoons overwhelming him.

"Of course. You two were my brothers long before they were."

* * *

Eventually Ron and Harry left, with strict promises not to get in trouble without her. Several weeks later a package arrived, in the muggle post, wrapped in brown paper.

Hermione smiled when she saw Ronald's familiar scrawl across the front and almost laughed. It was an improvement. He'd only used six stamps this time.

Opening it a large leather bound book fell onto the table with a note tied on top.

_Dear Hermione,_

_We told Mum that you were staying with your brothers and that Bobby guy and after assuring her that none of them were after your "innocence", whatever that means, she asked me to send you this. Harry says hi. We've both started Auror training. It's exhausting. Do you know that they make us read! I thought we were done with essays at school. _

_Still can't complain, we're learning lots of cool stuff. _

_Love,_

_Ron._

_P.S Dad wants to know if you have any muggle books on elektickity. He says he wants to hook up the shed. Whatever that means._

Hermione winced slightly at the thought of Arthur trying to play with electronics, let alone the mains supply. She folded the note and opened the book, which turned out to be more of a leather bound folder, filled with clippings, notes and hand written pages. The first page was a carefully penned letter from Mrs Weasley.

_Hermione,_

_This folder is the culmination of three generations of Prewitt and Weasley family recipes. Ronald and Harry told me you had moved into a house in America and were quite happy, for which I am grateful. It's time you had some happiness dear. This book was handed to me by my mother when I left home and married Arthur and let me tell you it has come in useful. I had originally intended to hand this to Ginny (or Charlie. I wish that boy would settle down) when she left home, but a quick duplication charm has fixed that. You have the original, as is only proper when the eldest daughter of a family leaves home. You and Harry are like children to me, I hope you know that. I was sorry to hear about your parents, but I'm sure that they are happy enough. Take care of yourself Hermione and you had better keep in touch young lady, or I will be sending you a howler, muggles or no._

_We had better hear from you by Christmas, or I'm sending the boys to find you. And yes I mean all six of them. Percy has always wanted to visit America._

_Love,_

_Molly_

Hermione laughed and flicked through the folder. Anyone who didn't know Molly would assume that this would contain nothing but cleaning charms and cooking recipes. Which it did. But there was also the Prewitt and Weasley warding schemes, runic arrays, potion recipes, spells, muggle herbal remedies, which had been annotated to actually work and if Hermione wasn't very much mistaken, the knitting pattern for a Weasley jumper. She laughed and grabbed a sheet of paper to pen a reply.

* * *

The dusty black Impala drew up to the house and Sam and Dean got out of the car. They were both tired and worn, having driven overnight from Texas. Dean had a black eye and Sam cradled one arm close to his body but they were both alive. Bobby greeted them with two large cups of coffee and a bacon sandwich each.

Both men accepted them gratefully and collapsed into the kitchen chairs.

"Where's Hermione?" Sam asked, slumped in the chair.

"Hello to you too." Bobby groused. "She's at work."

"She's hunting?" Dean demanded, eyes wide, almost spilling his drink as he lurched out of his chair, automatically jumping the worst possible conclusion.

"What? NO. You think I'd let that slip of a girl hunt? She's working. You know..." Bobby smiled slightly. "A regular job. Actually she's working two jobs. Trying to save up for a house."

"A house?"

"What does she need a house for?"

Bobby shrugged.

"She says it's unfair of her to keep living off my kindness. As it is she already pays for all the groceries. But she stubborn."

"She's a Winchester. We're born stubborn."

Bobby shrugged.

"The house that borders my lands is up for sale. It's a fair sized thing. But it's got four bedrooms and a nice kitchen and lots of bookcases, which is important apparently."

"Why does she need four bedrooms?"

"Well one for her and three guest bedrooms."

"Why'd she need three guest bedrooms?" Sam asked, already half asleep on the table.

"Probably for those boys from England." Dean muttered, brushing crumbs from his chest.

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Nah. She'll tell you herself. Now get to bed ya pair of idigits. Her shift finishes at four. You'll see her then."

"Love you too Bobby."

* * *

Hermione staggered in the door at five that evening, dropped two bags of groceries on the kitchen table and collapsed onto the sofa. Dean, having heard the front door close, stumbled down the staircase and paused in the doorway, staring at the dusty form of his little sister whose head was resting on her knees.

"Where the hell have you been?" He demanded making her jump.

"At work." She yawned, relaxing again. "Tell Bobby I'll start on dinner soon, I'm just tired."

Dean snorted and sprawled in the space next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"No need. Bobby says and I quote. "Tell that girl I'm making dinner and she can damn well deal with it."

Hermione giggled.

"I'm not that tired." She protested weakly. Dean chuckled and brushed her protests aside.

"So how come it took you so long to get home? Visiting a boyfriend?" Dean glowered at her.

"If I say yes will you try and beat him up?"

"I make no promises." Dean grinned at her.

"Nope. No boyfriend. I had to do some shopping and then the walk took longer than usual."

"Wait a second. You walked from the town to here with shopping?"

"Yep." She murmured sleepily.

"Why didn't you drive?"

Silence.

"Hermione?"

Sam chuckled from the doorway.

"Dean she's asleep. Leave her be. By the way Bobby says you have to help with dinner."

"Damnit."

* * *

When dinner was finally served, and it took a while because Dean was hindering more than helping, Sam woke Hermione and carried her to her chair, where she drowsily stared into a bowl of chilli.

"Hermione?"

She blinked and shook her head to clear it.

"Yes?"

"Eat."

"Oh okay." She picked up her fork and scooped up some chilli. "So where have you two been?"

"Down south. A string of possessions. But it's okay. We got the bad guys. No harm down."

"Dean you've got a black eye and Sammy has a badly sprained wrist..." She glared at Sam. "Which I will be taking a look at after dinner, Sam Winchester. I don't want it getting worse."

Sam chuckled.

"Yes Hermione."

"Actually Hermione we've been meaning to talk to you about something."

She smiled at them, brown eyes still slightly sleepy.

"What?"

"Well, you know how we have tattoos to stop demonic possessions?"

"You want me to get one."

Dean blinked and nodded.

"Well yeah."

She shrugged.

"Fair enough. Seems sensible." She grinned at them cheekily. "It's not my first tattoo after all."

"WHAT?" Dean shrieked, eyes wide and glaring. "When the hell did you get a tattoo?"

Sam and Hermione shared a glance with each other, both looking confused as Bobby chuckled into his beer.

"Last year. What's wrong Dean?"

"You're too young to get a tattoo!"

"What?" She asked.

"Yeah Dean..." Sam grinned. "What the hell? Didn't you just tell her to get one?"

Dean blinked and pointed at them with one finger at them.

"That is not the point. Damnit Sammy, you two can't gang up on me like this!"

Hermione chuckled.

"Why not? You are our big brother. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

Dean grumbled and nursed his beer bottle.

"I've got tomorrow off. If one of you will come with me to the tattoo parlour I'll do it then. I could do with a ride into town."

"That reminds me..." Sam frowned at her. "Why can't you drive?"

She blushed slightly, toying with her food.

"Well I can. But I haven't got a license over here and I lack the proper documentation to go and get one. Especially when you consider that I'm in the country almost illegally it would be somewhat...irresponsible. My birth certificate means I can stay here but I've got British citizenship. I'm lucky I've been able to work, truth be told." She smiled slightly. "Besides I haven't got the money to buy a car at the moment."

"Oh yeah. Bobby told us about the house."

Hermione shrugged.

"I have the money from the sale of my parents house, so I can afford it. The London housing market is particularly steep after all. I'm working so that I have enough to buy it with a comfortable margin for error."

Bobby chuckled again.

"She's got the one thing you two lack. Sense."

Hermione chuckled.

"What's your tattoo of?"

"A phoenix."

* * *

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Hermione screamed, jumped and threw herself to the floor behind a work bench.

There was muffled footsteps before Sam and Dean peered over the back to see Hermione crouched with what looked like a spanner brandished before her, shaking slightly.

"You all right there 'Mione?"

Brown eyes glared up at them.

"What the _hell_ was that for?" She hissed.

"We were trying to surprise you." Dean chuckled and wrestled the spanner out of her grasp as he helped her up.

"Don't creep up on me." she grumbled, brushing dust off her jeans.

"You know, Dad used to do the same thing, used to say it was left over from the Marines." Sam speculated.

Hermione pointedly ignored that.

"What on earth is that?"

Both her brothers folded their arms somewhat defensively.

"It's a truck."

"I can see that. Why is it covered in pink ribbon?"

Sam chuckled, ignoring the warning look Dean shot him.

"I let Dean wrap it. It's yours by the way."

Dean tossed her a key on a silver keyring which she fumbled but managed not to drop.

"The truck's from me. Sam can't work on cars to save himself."

Sam smirked.

"But I can hack into government databases." He handed her a small envelope. "Hermione Winchester, drivers license and passport. Seeing as your birth certificate was American it wasn't such an problem."

Hermione frowned at him.

"How legal was that? And when exactly did you take my photograph?"

Sam pursed his lips and grinned.

"Not very."

"Huh." Hermione smiled. "Well in that case..." She hugged them, barely coming up to Dean's chest. "Thank you. So much. I love it."

* * *

"What was John like?"

Bobby scowled.

"As a person or as a father?"

"Both."

Bobby sighed and dropped the large book onto the table. They were researching for Sam and Dean, who were hunting in Alabama.

"As a person...he was a good man when you got down to it. Thing was you had to do a lot of digging to _get _down to it. He was a damned good hunter, you can't argue about that. But he was less motivated by savin' people and more by revenge. He lost Mary and that tore him apart." Bobby paused and rubbed at his eyes. "As a father... well that depends on who you ask. Dean loved him. Unlike Sam he can just about remember his mum and having a home. It motivated him. He knew why they were doing it and in his eyes that made his Dad a hero, despite the fact that it left Dean to raise Sam. However if you ask Sam, and I recommend ya don't, he'll tell you a different story. All Sam knew growin' up was that they travelled constantly. For a long time he thought his Dad was a travelling sales man. John missed birthdays and Christmas and all those other things which a father is supposed to do." He paused, smiling slightly. "It should be said that Dean didn't. All Sam wanted was a little bit of normality. John was strict on both of them, they were just boys but he was training them to be hunters. When Sam wanted to go to college, John threw him out. Cut all contact with him."

Hermione frowned.

"Did Dean..."

"Nah. Don't think he could cut himself off from Sam if he tried. Still Dean likes to believe that is Dad was a saint. You being the obvious flaw in that plan."

"Me?"

"You're what? Three years younger than Sam? Mary had only been gone for two years, possibly less, before he shacked up with whoever your mother was. As far as Dean is concerned, that ain't long enough."

Hermione nodded slowly and went back to reading.

"To be honest," Bobby interrupted, taking a long swig from his beer bottle, "I'm glad he gave you away."

"Why?"

"Because you got raised proper. You had a normal childhood with people who loved you and encouraged you. You got what Sam always wanted. To be normal. If John had kept you, you'd have been just as messed up as those darn boys. The only reason they turned out halfway decent was because of me."

Hermione was tempted then. Tempted to tell the man who'd become a surrogate uncle that she'd lived a life so far from normal she couldn't even see it any more. Although she suspected he knew this. Bobby wasn't an idiot after all and there are some things no amount of acting can hide. On the rare occasions he took Hermione hunting,_ as back-up only and don't you breath a word to your brother,_ he'd look at her afterwards, unfazed by the blood and shake his head.

"I don't wanna know." he'd say.

And Hermione wouldn't push it.

* * *

Dean paused halfway down the hall of Hermione's new house and cocked his head to the side, tucking the cardboard box under his arm. He wasn't sure how his sister had managed to accumulate so many books or where she'd been keeping them. Apparently Harry had shipped them over from her storage locker.

"Hermione?" He called.

She stuck her head out from her room and smiled at him, hair sticking up in random puffs.

"Yes?"

"What's this?" He asked gruffly, pointing at the post-it note taped to the door in front of him.

"A note." She teased, stepping fully into the hall.

"Very funny. It's got my name on it."

"Then why don't you open the door and find out?"

He frowned at her but twisted the wooden handle and stepped into the room anyway. There was a large double bed, with pillows and a duvet folded on top. The walls were white and bare and a empty wardrobe and desk stood against one wall. Several shelves covered the other wall and a large window looked out onto the field behind Hermione's house.

"Do you like it?" She asked quietly, lingering nervously in the doorway.

"What is it?"

"It's your room. Bobby said that you travelled a lot as a child and I thought it would be nice if you had a place you could call home, instead of sharing a room with Sammy." She chewed her lip nervously, watching his expression. "I figured we could go out and buy paint and furnishings, so you could decorate it. Only if you want to, of course."

Dean grinned and dragged her in for a hug.

"Hermione this is...I mean..." He released her and wiped something that definitely wasn't a tear from his eye, because Dean Winchester didn't cry. He grinned at her.

"Where's Sammy?"

"In the library I think."

"SAMMY!" Dean yelled, striding into the hallway. "We're going to the store."

"WHY?" Sam yelled back, as Hermione rolled her eyes.

Dean stuck his head back inside his room.

"Sam has a room too, right?"

She nodded happily.

* * *

It turned out that neither of the brothers had painted anything before, unless you counted demon traps, which she didn't. Hermione was still trying to work out how Dean got paint on the back of his head, although she suspected Sam had something to do with it. Sam had chosen blue for his room and Dean a deep green similar in colour to his eyes. They both had rugs and covers to match and Sam had glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling because, he claimed, he'd always wanted some.

* * *

The boys weren't home often. Sometimes a whole month would pass betweens their visits. They would check in once a week by phone and Sam sent postcards, which Hermione proudly pinned up on the fridge.

Hermione didn't mind not going on adventures. What with being friends with Harry and the War she'd had enough adventures to last her a life time. Instead she did research with Bobby and brewed potions and worked her jobs. She was happy.

Besides having a home made a difference to the Winchester brothers. Having a clean beds, which only they had slept in and a space which was their own gave them somewhere to relax. When things had been particularly hard, or they were injured or sick, they'd drive, sometimes halfway across America to get home. Dean would park his baby by the side of the house. They'd grab their stuff from the boot of the car, unlock the door (with the key Dean wore around his neck on a silver chain) and kick their shoes off, because woe betide them if they tracked demon blood into the house. There would be food in the fridge (real food- not take-away) and good water pressure, luxuries they didn't have on the road.

And there would be a warm welcome.

Hermione was at her happiest when ever she saw the Impala parked outside. If they were home then they were safe. They'd eat together, catch up. Heal and repair. And when the next hunt came up, and there always was a next hunt, then it would be okay. Because home would always be there.

She didn't have much contact with her old life. She wrote to Molly and the boys but didn't visit often. Harry called occasionally when he got himself a mobile phone, but otherwise there was very little contact with her old life. So she was surprised when one of the last people she'd have expected turned up on her doorstep.

* * *

"George?"

The Weasley twin smiled wanly at her, an expression that didn't even reach his eyes. He was pale, as though he hadn't been outside much, and thin. His hair was lank and had grown long, long enough to cover the hole on the side of his head. Molly didn't write about George. Neither did Ron. She'd suspected it was too painful.

"Hey 'Mione."

Hermione opened her arms and George crashed into her, burying his head in her hair. She felt him shaking slightly. Somehow she got him inside and settled in the kitchen as she grabbed a calming draught from her locked First Aid kit and added several drops to his tea. She turned back to look at him and as she did so caught sight of the calender.

The mug shattered on the ground.

George's head snapped up at the sound and saw where she was staring.

"I didn't realise." She whispered. Her voice shook and she moved her gaze to his, tears blurring her vision. "How could I forget, George?"

It was her turn to be guided to a chair and George held her hand as they both stared at nothing.

"I couldn't stay at home." He whispered. "It just got too hard. Mum woke up a week ago and asked me where he was. She was half asleep, doesn't even remember..."

Hermione hissed slightly, not needing to ask who _he_ was.

"Ah George." She murmured, tightening her grip on his hand.

George shrugged.

"There's a ceremony going on. Tomorrow I think. They're putting up a monument to the casualties of the war." George sneered. "_Casualties_. Like they were a necessary sacrifice." He calmed slightly. "Everyone from Cedric Diggory to Bathilda Bagshot is going on there."

She winced at the fresh wave of grief. It had been easier to pretend with a ocean between her and the truth. But now, with George sitting there looking heartbreakingly like his brother, it all came flooding back. Tonks, Remus, Colin...

"I miss him." He said aimlessly.

"Of course you do." She dragged a breath into her lungs. The air tasted warm and dusty. Not at all like home. All at once she yearned for dental stories and quiet homes. Magic and the Burrow. Hogwarts...

"Come on..." She grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet, tugging him out the back door.

The meadow behind Hermione's house was one of her favourite places. Tall grass and flowers. When you lay back you could almost pretend everything didn't matter. You could pretend you weren't in America.

"You've been awarded the Order of Merlin. First Class. First muggleborn woman to do so." George murmured, leaning back against the oak tree.

"That's nice."

He smirked slightly.

"Hermione Granger, prefect incarnate, wins the highest accolade possible for a wizard and she says, "_That's nice_." America really has changed you."

"You know full well I haven't been that person for a long time. And it's Winchester."

"What?"

"Hermione Winchester."

"Huh." George nodded. "Mum mentioned something about that. Well it's better than Longbottom."

"Be nice about Neville."

"There she is."

"Who?"

George closed his eyes.

"The prefect." He blew out a long breath, puffing his cheeks. It reminded Hermione of the Common Room in Gryffindor Tower. The twins would sit and make strange faces at people just to see if they'd laugh. "So tell me about these new brothers of yours? Because Percy was all for marching over here and interrogating them."

"Why Percy?" She hadn't thought she'd been all that close to the third Weasley child.

"You're like the little sister he wishes he had. All organised and sensible and bleugh."

"Thanks for that George."

"Welcome. I have to do taxes now you know. It's horrible. And paperwork. That's worse."

"Does your family know your over here?"

"_Our_ family does yes. We've been thinking about expanding across the pond, we've got the money to do so. I told them I was doing that."

"We?" She asked softly.

"I. I've got the money to do so." He turned to look at her, with an expression of broken confusion. "I keep passing things to him, Hermione. And he doesn't catch them."

Hermione sighed and fought back tears again. She was beginning to understand why no one spoke about George.

"How's the business doing?" She asked, desperate for a change of subject.

"Fine. Lots of people looking for reasons to laugh. Can I stay?"

Hermione frowned slightly but nodded.

"No magic though George Weasley, or I'll write to your mum. My brothers might come home."

"_Our_ mum."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

George got to his feet, running his hands through the tall grass.

"Because you're family 'Mione. Even with brown hair. Even in America. You're like a sister to us. Well except to Ronniekins. And perhaps to Bill and Charlie. You're more of a cousin to them. But still family." He assured her, green eyes wide.

Hermione laughed. And then kept laughing at the surprised expression on George's face.

"I wasn't even trying to be funny." He muttered when her giggles finally petered out.

"I know George. I know."

* * *

They sat up late the next evening and watched the sun set. George got a fire going, although Hermione suspected he'd cheated and used his wand. They cooked marshmallows on sticks and made their way through the box of Bertie Bots Beans George had brought as a gift. As the last rays of sunlight dipped beyond the horizon, Hermione brought out a roll of parchment and a quill.

"What's that for?"

"We're going to say goodbye."

George flinched.

"'Mione I came here to avoid that..."

"I know." Hermione tucked her knees into her chest. "But neither of us can keep living like this." She passed him the quill. "Write down the names."

"What names?" he hissed, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

"The names of every person we lost."

He sighed.

"How will this help?"

"I don't know."

"That's a miracle."

"Don't be cruel. They're having a ceremony over there. Why can't we have one?"

"Because we're two idiot sitting around a fire in the middle of America."

"Just write down the damn names, George."

It took them a while. Hermione would call out suggestions, whilst reading over his shoulder. George hadn't been in hiding for nine months and so knew the names of people who Hermione had never even heard of.

"Lily and James Potter."

"Colin Creevy."

"Snape."

"Lavender Brown."

"Mad Eye."

"Sirius Black."

"Amelia Bones."

"Emma and Daniel Granger." She whispered. George glanced at her, quill poised above the parchment.

"Are you sure?"

"No." She smiled at him through her tears. "But I can't go back. I think seeing them again would break my heart. I need to let them go."

"Okay." George added them to the list. "I think that's everyone." He murmured.

"George..."

"What?"

"You need to put him down. You know he hated being left out of things."

"I don't need _you_ to tell him what he would have liked."

Hermione sighed and reached over, tugging the quill out of his hand.

_Fred Weasley._

George visible flinched.

"Its just...I know he's gone. But seeing it written down..."

"I know."

Hermione sighed.

"We're not going to forget. We couldn't if we tried."

George blew his hair out of his eyes.

"I miss you Freddie." He whispered.

"Bye Mum." Hermione swallowed. "Bye Dad."

She and George tore the list in half and tossed it into the flames. They watched it burn, doing nothing to stem the tears streaming down both their faces.

"Remember what Harry said?"

George choked slightly.

"About?"

"When he went into the forest. He said his parents had been watching over him his entire life." She smiled up at the stars. "I reckon Fred's watching us."

"You think?"

"Mm. Probably furious with Harry."

"How come?"

"Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs? The Marauders?"

"What about them?"

"Prongs was Harry's Dad. Padfoot was Sirius. Moony was Remus and Wormtail was Peter Pettigrew."

George's face slackened with shock.

"You me to tell us...me" He swallowed and shook his head to clear it. "That I was living with one of my hero's for a whole summer and NOBODY TOLD ME?"

Hermione chuckled.

"I bet Fred's causing havoc up there. The Marauders needed a fourth anyway."

George smiled. A small smile, but undoubtedly progress.

"I wonder what they'd call him."

"Irritating?" She offered.

"Very funny. I feel guilty about filling Professor Lupin's hat with custard now."

"Custard? Really George?"

"Wasn't one of my better ideas."

Hermione became aware of the gravel crunching as someone walked around the side of the house.

"Got your wand?" She whispered urgently.

"Yeah."

"Hide it."

George shuffled his wand further into his pocket, just as Sam and Dean rounded the side of the house. She got to her feet to greet them.

"Hermione?" Sam asked, tugging her in for a hug. "What's wrong?"

Hermione brushed the last of the tears from her face and moved to intercept Dean, who looked like he was about to pull a gun on George for making her cry.

"Sam I'm fine. I've just been catching up with an old friend." She pulled George to his feet. "This is George Weasley. He's visiting from England."

"Pleasure." he said, holding out a hand.

Dean ignored it, but Sam grudgingly shook it, if only to stop Hermione glaring at him.

"Where's the car?" She asked, having not heard the distinctive engine note.

"We left it at Bobby's. Dean wants to do some work on it." Sam fixed his gaze on George, who had one hand stuffed in the pocket containing his wand. "So how come your visiting?"

George shrugged.

"I'm looking at expanding my business over into America. I run a joke shop."

"Seriously?"

"Not very." George countered and Sam smiled slightly.

"I'm going inside to get something to drink." Hermione announced, tired of the tension.

Dean nodded to Sam. "I'll come with you."

"Oh will you."

"Yes." Dean rolled his eyes. "Just go, Hermione."

Sam and George were left sitting out by the fire. Sam tossed another log into the flames.

"So how do you know Hermione?"

George smiled.

"My family has known her since she was eleven, I think. She became friends with Ron, my little brother, in her first year of school."

"We've met."

"Well she's sort of become family. We all went to school together. I was a year or two older than her." He shrugged. "By her fourth year of school she spent more time with my family than she did with her own. I think she spent maybe two weeks with her parents and then came over to ours for the World Cup. Same story next year and the year after that. My family grew quite attached to her."

"Didn't she see her parents when she went home after school?"

"Nah. We went to boarding school. Whole load of us. We were all in the same house as well. When you live with the same people for ten months of the year, you get attached."

"Hermione never mentioned that."

George smirked.

"Can't imagine why. She loved school. Prefect you know, and she was tipped to be Head Girl. Would've been too had everything not gone to pot. We used to love winding her up. You ever see her lose her temper?"

Sam thought about it. Hermione was annoyed occasionally, but she never got beyond mild scolding.

"Not really."

"Count yourself lucky. She used to scream at us across the Common Room. Never met a girl with such a short fuse. Terrified us most of the time." He coughed. "Not that we'd let her know that of course."

"Huh. So is it just you and Ron then?"

"Nope. Whole lot of us. I've got...four brothers and one sister along with my Mum and Dad. Well five brothers and two sisters if you count Hermione and Harry. And we tend to. They're family, despite not being ginger." He shot Sam a long glance. "Although I hear the position of big brother has been filled." He gave Sam a once over, taking in the man's giant frame. "Literally."

Sam shrugged.

"We do our best. We're not around a lot."

"Hmmm. Mum won't be best pleased about that. She thinks a young wi...woman shouldn't be left on her own. Leads to cackling."

"Cackling?"

George grinned evilly.

"Madness."

The taller man shifted slightly as though uncomfortable.

"What was all the...crying about?" He asked, unable to forget the red eyes and tear stained faces.

George sighed.

"Back home there''s a ceremony going on right now. Hermione's supposed to be there in fact. Getting an award for outstanding valour and bravery or something. Services to the nation yada yada. I think she burned her invitation. Anyway a year ago today, a lot of people we knew died."

"In an explosion?"

"Of a sort."

"I'm sorry."

George grimaced.

"Not your fault. We lost friends, colleagues...family. 'Mione and I were just saying goodbye."

"Are you staying long?"

"I don't know. As long as she'll have me I suppose. Our mum will be getting annoyed. I told Hermione that everyone knew I'd come over here."

"You lied?"

"Of course I lied. I was planning to escape an extremely important event which I had been expressly told to attend." He rolled his eyes. "Rather be here with her anyway. Although I expect a full Weasley extraction once they get around to asking Lee where I've gone."

Sam chuckled.

"What's it like having so many siblings?"

"Hectic. Loud. Nice to have back up though. So if you and your brother don't keep her safe you'll have the full force of Molly Weasley coming down on you."

Sam smirked, eyes tracking the shadows crawling across the lawn.

"I've faced worse."

"Believe me you haven't. Woman scares the hell out of me and she's my mother. Then there's Bill and Charlie, they can pull a big brother act like nothing you've ever seen. Percy will do something horrible to your books and filing and put you in debt for years. I'll prank you into next week. Harry and Ron will just beat you up. Ginny's probably the worst. She'll wait until you least expect it and then hand you from the ceiling by your ankles. Teddy'll probably just drool on you to be honest."

"Teddy?"

"Harry's godson. He's almost two."

"Ah."

* * *

The year Dean spent in Hell was hard for Hermione. It was hard for all of them. Sam pulled away from her and Bobby, he vanished for long periods of time and came back different. When Dean returned, Bobby (after making sure he wasn't a demon) marched him straight across his land and up to Hermione's house. Dean was almost scared as he waited for the door to open. Sam knew the risks of what they did. Sam had known what was coming. They hadn't told Hermione. They'd been hoping for a way out of it.

She was thinner and there were bags under her eyes. She stared at Dean as though she didn't quite see him, glancing to Bobby for reassurance.

"Hermione?" He asked cautiously.

"Are you real?" She replied quietly not letting go of the door.

He nodded and then stumbled because she had flung herself at him, hugging him tightly, sobbing into his shirt.

Eventually Hermione let go of him long enough for him to get into the house.

"So are you okay?" She asked as she made tea. It looked like she was just trying to keep her hands busy.

Dean shrugged.

"As good as I can be."

Hermione glared at him.

"Do you remember anything?"

He flinched slightly willing the images back.

"No."

Hermione snorted, dumping a steaming mug in front of him.

"You, Dean Winchester, are lucky I trust you. I'm going to leave that for the time being but eventually you and I _will_ talk." She sat down at the table and smiled at them both. It was brittle and empty and full of fury.

"It's good to have you back Dean. Things haven't been the same without you."

Dean winced.

"Where's Sam?"

It was Hermione's turn to flinch.

"You haven't told him?" She asked Bobby, who shook his head.

"Sam went off the rails a bit after you...left us. He spent months trying everything to get you back. We all did. Eventually he took the Impala and went back to hunting. He checks in occasionally, asks me to look things up. But he's not the same."

"Do you know where he is?" Dean demanded. She shot him a warning look, and he settled back a bit.

"You're in luck. He called in last night..."

"Where?"

"Dean Winchester if you think I'm going to let I'm going to let you gallivant off after what you've been through you have another think coming! You need to rest. A nights sleep won't kill you and neither will a a good couple of meals."

"Damnit Hermione, he's my brother."

"And I'm your sister." She snarled. She stood and glared at him. "For the love of Merlin, Dean, you've been to hell and back. Literally. I thought you were dead. For a year I thought I would never see you again. And you know what hurts the most? Is that you didn't tell me. You had a year to tell me. A whole year. None of you even thought to tell me that Sam had died. I could've helped. I could have done _something_. But instead I felt so useless because there was _nothing_ I could do to help. NOTHING. And you burned for that." She closed her eyes and gathered her temper.

"Hermione we were trying to keep you safe..." He protested.

"Really? Or did you just not trust me enough with the truth? I know we're not as close as you and Sam, but I thought we were close enough to tell me that my time with my brother was limited." She spat the last word, the Winchester temper finally showing. She'd simmer and simmer and then she'd explode and Heaven help the person in front of her when she did. "Sam didn't even have the decency to tell me to my face. Bobby did it. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? I thought you two cared about me. I thought we were family."

Dean winced at that.

"Hermione..."

"Shut up. You were DEAD Dean. And now I've finally got you back, I can't just let you leave again until I'm sure you're okay. Even if it is for Sammy." A tear made it's way down her cheek, but she brushed Dean off when he offered her a hug. He'd never realised how strong she was before. Or how much they'd hurt her. "Now shirt off."

"What!" He spluttered, blushing slightly.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and brandished her ridiculously well stocked First Aid kit.

"You've got cuts on your hands and you keep wincing when you move your shoulders. So shirt off and let me fix you." Her voice turned pleading. "Please..."

* * *

"How come he didn't stay with you?" Dean asked, driving down the dark road.

Hermione shrugged.

"I'm only his half sister. You were his brother. Loosing you was the worst thing that could happen to him. Having me around was like a bloody awful consolation prize. I spent a lot of time with George as it was. He knew what I was going through." She peered at the map, listening to Bobby's snores in the back of the truck. "I wonder what he's doing here."

"Damned if I know."

Hermione flinched and Dean winced.

"Sorry 'Mione. Bad word choice."

She sighed and tipped her head back.

"I hope he doesn't shoot you. I wanted to shoot you." She mused.

"Real comforting little sister."

"Welcome."

* * *

When Hermione met Castiel, Dean wasn't really sure what to expect. The brothers had waited until they trusted the Angel enough before introducing him to their sister. Not that Hermione couldn't take care of herself. She was almost as proficient at fighting as they were, something Dean had always been worried by. Neither brother liked the idea of Hermione getting hurt. She already had those scars she wouldn't talk about. They didn't want to add to them.

But Hermione had been insistent and eventually they caved, remembering the last time they'd tried to keep her safe.

The Angel had stood in the middle of the room and Hermione had glared at him, her arms folded. The might of heaven and she glared at him as though he was a particularly irritating car salesman.

"Er Castiel, this is our little sister Hermione." Dean coughed. "Hermione, this is Castiel." The Angel stuck out a hand which she ignored.

"I understand I have you to thank for my brothers return from Hell." She stated. Dean noticed that she didn't offer any thanks. Just acknowledged it.

"I am the one who clasped him tight and raised him from perdition. That is true."

Dean didn't blush. Honest.

"Do you eat, Angel?"

"Hang on. How do you know he's an Angel?" Sam asked, pushing off from the wall where he'd been leaning, because Hermione had snapped at him for looming over her.

"She is one of the rare individuals who can seen my wings. If I chose to leave my vessel I suspect she would be able to see my true form." Castiel cocked his head to the side, as though she was a particularly confusing rabbit. "And yes. I do masticate although it is not necessary for me to maintain my form."

"Good." She murmured, still watching him strangely. She turned and headed into the library. "The spare room is his, Dean."

* * *

Castiel got his room and he decorated it himself. The ceiling was sky blue and painted with fluffy clouds. He had no furniture, save for a brass hook on the door, on which he hung his trench coat. His bed, although Hermione wasn't entirely sure that he slept, was a large pile of pillows and duvets in the centre of the room, which he made into a heap.

Dean called it an Angel Nest.

* * *

When Sam and Dean argued, and they did, Hermione felt like Harry.

Stuck in the middle.

Sometimes choosing a side was easy.

Other times...not so much.

* * *

"Angel if you think I can't see you..."

Castiel shimmered into the visible spectrum, head cocked to the side, frowning.

Hermione sat in front of the panic room door, ignoring Sam's heart wrenching screams, with a shot gun balanced across her knees. She raised an eyebrow at Castiel.

"I'll assume, for the basis of our friendship, that you're under orders."

"Move aside witch." He intoned, using the voice which always got Dean to do as he was bid.

Hermione just tipped her head back, smirking at the ceiling.

"I was wondering if you knew." She murmured.

"All of the garrison knows. It was written."

"Which would explain why I haven't had a visit." Hermione glared at him. "Do not let him out. He's not a weapon."

"He could..."

"If you let him out we will lose him. Like any addiction this will be fatal. We need to wean him off now before it gets any worse." She cocked the shotgun and aimed. "Whilst the bullets won't kill you, they will summon Dean." She narrowed her eyes. "Wouldn't your master be annoyed if you lost the trust of Dean Winchester?"

Castiel watched her in silence, head still cocked to the side.

"Shoot me."

She squeezed the trigger and watched Jimmy Novak's shirt shred under the white hot balls of lead.

Castiel didn't even flinch.

"I will inform them that Sam Winchester is too well protected."

She nodded.

"You do that."

* * *

Dean Winchester was drunk. This wasn't an unusual phenomenon but having Castiel around at the time was. Especially when Dean was quite this drunk. Dean blinked blearily and leaned forward on his chair.

"Y'see Cassie..."

"My name is Castiel."

Sam snorted in amusement as he fiddled with his laptop. It was just as well he'd gotten them back to the motel. Dean got weird when he was drunk.

Dean nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. Anyway women are...what's dat word Sammy?"

"Complicated?"

"Complicated. If you see a woman you like..." He frowned at Castiel, as though trying to keep him in focus. "You gotta make sure she knows y'r interested. Stake your claim man."

"What does a sharpened branch have to do with it?"

"He doesn't mean literally Cas."

"Shuddup Sammy. If she doesn't she'll waltz off with somebody elshe." He widened his eyes. "Like him." He added pointing at the cupboard. Sam could only assume Dean had been aiming for him. "You gotta be funny and interesting and mishterious. Chicks love dat."

"What's happened to him?" Castiel asked Sam, seemingly mystified.

"He's losing the ability to speak. He'll fall asleep in a moment."

Castiel frowned, nodding carefully.

"Why is he giving me advice?"

Sam shrugged.

"He thinks you need it."

* * *

"Are you scared for your brothers?"

Hermione sighed and leaned her head against the wall, where she'd been tracing warding runes. She waited for her heart rate to return to normal.

"Don't do that. And of course I am. Are you scared for your brothers?"

"Should they fall from grace...yes I would be scared for them."

Hermione nodded and began drawing again with her chalk.

"I need to give you protection against the angels."

She snorted, dropping the chalk back into the box.

"Did Dean put you up to this?"

Castiel kept eye contact with her, but he began shifting nervously on the spot.

"Not...exactly. Your brothers are currently sleeping. Dean asked me to give you this." He handed over a plastic box with yet another demon trap on the lid.

Hermione chuckled.

"Dean Winchester. The only hunter in the world worried about demons stealing his pie." She threw the box into the sink. "I hope he realises I have a life outside of cooking for him."

"I would not hold out much hope."

"Did you just make a joke?" She asked, frowning.

"Dean said that's what you're supposed to do..." He trailed off staring at the light on the ceiling.

"Cas.." She prompted.

He blinked and stepped forward, holding out one finger.

"I need to protect you from...angel radar."

"Did Dean call it that?"

"It was...an apt description." He shifted closer. "May I?"

Hermione nodded and Castiel pressed one finger to her sternum. Pain like fire flashed across her ribs and she screamed and fell, images bombarding her of a marble floor and madness. Castiel only just caught her in time. He picked her up bridal style and carried her over to the sofa.

"I'm sorry." He murmured setting her down. "I should have known that that would trigger certain memories."

"What did you do?" Hermione frowned at him, arms wrapped protectively around her torso. "Hang on, do you know...about that?"

"The war within Wizarding Britain? Yes. We were watching, waiting to see if intervention was necessary. It wasn't. You were of particular interest to us."

"Why?"

"Because of your relation to the Winchesters." Castiel settled on the coffee table, watching her warily. "I burned Enochian symbols onto your rib cage. They will protect you."

Hermione brushed that off, focusing on something else.

"Are you going to tell my brothers?"

"Do you want me to?"

Hermione shook her head. Castiel reached out and tugged on one of her curls, seemingly fascinated.

"It is not my story to tell. Having become acquainted with your brothers I can understand your hesitation." He cocked his head to the side. "Dean has woken up."

He vanished without any further explanation.

* * *

Hermione squinted at the x-ray she held up to the light. The marks were like nothing she'd ever seen before and certainly beyond her ability to translate. She glanced at the clock, mindful of the time difference across the Atlantic. Checking the door to her study was locked, she crossed to her rarely used Floo and built a fire by hand.

"This would be so much easier with _Incendio."_ She muttered crossly. Eventually though she had enough embers to work with. Grabbing the pot of Floo powder she kept in her locked desk drawer for just this purpose she knelt by the flames.

"Minister for Magic's Office." She called clearly, sticking her head into the flames. There was the unpleasant sensation of having your head twisted off before she settled, looking into an opulent office.

"Kingsley?" She called.

There was a rustle, before the very tall African wizard settled on the floor in front of her. To say he looked surprised was something of an understatement. Hermione tried not to look insulted. It _had_ been over two years since he'd last seen her.

"Hermione?" he asked in amazement.

She smiled faintly. It was nice to see someone familiar.

"Hello Kings. I need a favour."

Kingsley Shacklebolt had several redeeming qualities but in Hermione's eyes the one that stood out was his ability to sweep pleasantries under the rug, in favour of actual work.

Carefully Hermione passed the x-ray through. Kingsley held it up to the light.

"What am I looking at here?"

"A photograph of my rib cage. I need those markings translated." Kingsley nodded, summoning a manilla folder and tucking it safely away.

"Consider it done. May take a while of course."

Hermione smiled happily at him.

"Oh and if you could..."

"Don't tell Auror Potter?"

She blushed slightly.

"It would be appreciated. He worries. If there is anything I can do to return the favour...?"

"Actually..." he summoned a large bundle of papers, tied with black ribbon. "We've been having trouble with these equations. Curse Breakers don't know what to make of it. Bill Weasley happened to mention that if anyone could solve it, it'd be you."

Hermione grinned and took the folder.

"I'll take a look."

* * *

"DAMMIT CAS!" Dean yelled for what was easily the tenth time that hour.

"Angel boy not answering?" Hermione asked Sam from the corner. Sam shrugged watching their big brother yell at the ceiling.

"Well he never answers me. Dean's the one with the more profound bond..." Dean shot his brother a dirty look. Sam grinned.

"Huh. Want me to try?" She called to Dean.

"Go for it." He said bitterly, collapsing into his chair.

Hermione drew in a large breath, tipper her head back and yelled;

"CASTIEL, ANGEL OF THE BLOODY LORD YOU HAD BETTER GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW OR I'LL TELL MY BROTHERS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WROTE ON MY RIBS." Hermione smirked at the particularly sheepish angel that appeared in front of her, milliseconds after she'd finished shouting. Sam and Dean stared at her in amazement.

"I can explain..."

"Damn right you can. What the hell did you do to Hermione?" Dean bellowed, apocalyptic problems temporarily forgotten, in favour of apocalyptic brotherly rage.

"He didn't do anything Dean." Hermione smiled brightly, ignoring Castiel who was blushing. "However you have much bigger problems at the moment."

* * *

"Is this black mail?"

"You tell me." Hermione tapped her pen against the table as she pondered the equations in front of her.

"How did you translate it?"

"I sent it to a friend of mine who sent it to a friend of his who sent it to someone in the Department of Mysteries. Took them a week, a summoning circle and the god of mischief." She frowned at him. "Does anyone else have that written on them or am I just incredibly lucky?"

Castiel flushed slightly.

"I'll take that as a no." She handed him a scrap of parchment. "Next time ask. Or I _will_ sic my brothers on you." She shooed him out of the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

* * *

Castiel smiled faintly as he read the paper, sitting on the hood of the Impala, hoping Dean didn't see him.

It had been a foolish impulse, but even angels got a little foolish. There was something about the Winchesters that made him act...human. Especially the curly haired witch with prophet like intelligence.

She hadn't written down the protection runes. Just the message he'd inscribed in the middle.

_I, Castiel, stake my claim over the human Hermione Winchester. Mine to protect, mine to love and mine to hold._

His wings rustled as he stared contentedly at the house.

At least she hadn't said no.

* * *

"Hermione?"

"Mmm."

Sam stretched out across the sofa, resting his head in her lap. His legs hung off the end and his feet touched the floor. It was a small sofa.

"What do Cas's wings look like? I mean I've seen them when he gets his angel mojo on, but otherwise..."

"They're black and glossy. Sort of like a crows wings."

"Huh. Guess I always thought they'd be white."

She snorted.

"Be glad you can't see them."

"How come?"

"He leaves feathers all over my house." She murmured, picking one off his shoulder and watching as it dissolved into nothing.

"Are they real?"

"Real in what sense?"

"Can you touch them?"

"Not exactly. My closest guess would be that they are the physical manifestation of his grace. They dissolve when they come in contact with me. Just as he uses and replenishes his grace, he loses and grows feathers"

"Okay. Which would explain how he wears that damn trench coat." Sam paused and frowned up at her. "How come you can see them but we can't?"

"I have no idea." She murmured.

* * *

"Bugger." She hissed, dropping the large knife she'd been sharpening.

"You've been hurt."

Hermione jumped, snatching up the blade and putting it between her and the voice. She only relaxed slightly when she realised it was Castiel, large black wings snapped shut behind him.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded, setting the knife aside.

"You are hurt." He said, as though the answer was obvious.

"And you knew about that, how?"

"We share a bond."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Is this to do with what you scrawled across my ribs?"

Either Castiel was starting to learn human expressions, or perhaps Hermione was actually irritated enough for him to actually notice, because he winced slightly.

"I am not sorry about that. But please..." He asked, holding out his hand, "Let me help."

Hermione gave the sigh of beleaguered heroines everywhere and held out her forearm.

"Why is it Winchesters seem to hate accepting help from people?" He asked heavily.

"We're incredibly stubborn."

"I had noticed."

He removed his hand and Hermione touched the smooth skin carefully.

"Thank you." She murmured, taking a step back from him.

"You're welcome."

"Why aren't you sorry?"

Castiel actually blushed.

"I don't regret it."

"Brilliant."

He frowned.

"Was that sarcasm? Because Dean has been teaching me..."

"Yes it was. Why don't you regret it?"

"I wish to keep you safe whilst I can. Enjoy your company whilst it is still possible for me to do so."

Hermione paused and gave him a long look with dark eyes. She nodded sadly and turned away from him.

"May I ask you a question?"

She laughed quietly.

"You already have."

"Well may I ask you another one?"

She waved for him to continue, picking up the blade and washing it off under the tap. It was mostly sharp anyway.

"If it came down to a choice between you or your brothers..."

There was a clatter as the blade was dropped for a second time, chipping the porcelain sink.

She turned and faced him. For once the Angel wasn't uncomfortably close, but instead examining the muggle photograph of her and George she had pinned to her fridge. Entirely too nonchalant. She caught his chin in her hand and turned him to face her, looking up at the piercing blue eyes, stubble scratching her fingertips.

When she spoke her voice was low and serious and her eyes were full of pain.

"You listen to me Angel. If...When it comes down to it, you save my brothers. Don't even think about it. Don't pause, don't ask for permission. You save my brothers. I can look after myself."

"Speaking hypothetically of course." He asserted, staring down at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Of course."

She turned away, tutting over the chip in her sink.

"Honestly. I'll have to get George to fix that next time he's here."

"And what if I can't?"

It took Hermione a few seconds to realise that she, Hermione Granger, was holding a knife to an Angel's throat. She hadn't even thought about it. Just reacted.

"Can't what?" She hissed.

Castiel moved closer, knocking the knife away. He frowned, setting his hands on the sink behind her, pinning her in place.

"What if I can't make that choice?" He growled.

"I'm not giving you the option. Castiel I've had too many near misses to be lucky for much longer. One day the blade is going to fall and I'm going to die." She swallowed back the lump in her throat, looking away, ignoring the look of sorrow in his eyes. "You save them. Do that for me. Please."

Castiel sighed leaning his forehead against hers.

"As you wish." He whispered.

* * *

Sometime Hermione felt like three people living separate lives in the same body.

There was Hermione Granger: Brightest Witch of her Age. Order of Merlin First Class. Member of the Golden Trio. Freelance Arithmancy Consultant for Gringotts Bank, reporting to Bill Weasley. Not seen in Wizarding Britain for nearly five years.

There was also Hermione Singer: Historian. Dean had insisted that working under the Winchester name would attract the wrong sort of attention. So her articles on muggle history, specifically on folk lore and it's impact on the populace, were published under Bobby's surname. She was quickly becoming recognised as an expert in her field, published in multiple magazines and journals.

And then there was Hermione Winchester: Younger sister to the great Sam and Dean. This Hermione could recite exorcisms backwards. Pack twenty salt rounds in under five minutes. Had remarkably good aim with a handgun. Knew more supernatural lore than any girl had a right to.

Hermione wasn't sure what she'd do when these three worlds collided. They would inevitably, it was pointless to assume they wouldn't. However it was easier to pretend that it wasn't going to happen for a long time.

* * *

"Hey witch." A voice drawled.

Hermione chuckled, the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear, balancing the bags on her hip.

"Hello demon. Have you lost something?"

Meg's voice was as dry as always, but there wasn't the defensive quality she had when she spoke to Sam or Dean.

"Moose upset him again. He shattered the lights. He's not in the garden so..."

"Of course he did. If I see him I'll send him back to you." she smiled, amused.

"Thank you. You know for a lying Winchester you're ain't so bad."

"And for the spawn of hell you're not so bad either." Hermione crunched her way up her drive, smirking slightly.

"Look after Clarence for me."

"Always do."

How Meg had gotten her phone number, Hermione wasn't very certain. She suspected Castiel had thought they'd get on well. Which, in fairness, they did. Meg appreciated company that didn't hate her on principle and Hermione appreciated dry wit and sarcasm. Their friendship existed entirely over the phone and both preferred to keep it that way. Meg couldn't describe her to Crowley if tortured and Hermione could honestly say they'd never met if interrogated by her brothers.

Hermione unlocked the door and headed straight for the kitchen.

"You know you can't keep running away from Meg." She said, flicking on the lights.

Hermione stopped short and frowned.

"I wanted to bring you flowers, but I didn't want to kill the plant. And I didn't like the fake ones...they're too much like demons. The bee's need the nectar you know." He added helpfully.

"So you brought me an entire rose bush and a bee colony?"

The rose bush itself was beautiful with large yellow flowers just beginning to bloom. The beehive, was understandably, not quite so attractive. It buzzed angrily.

"Castiel.." She sighed. "They cannot live in my house. It would not make them happy. It will not make me happy."

Castiel scrunched his nose and worried his lip.

"I think you are right. Do you have an alternate suggestion?"

"The bottom of the garden or the meadow would do fine. There is plenty of light and they'll enjoy the lavender you planted." She sat her bags on the kitchen table and smiled gently as he flashed the items away. She made herself a cup of tea, but used honey instead of milk to sweeten it. Heaven knew she had enough of the stuff. To be honest Heaven probably did know. Damn Angels.

"So what did Sam do?" She asked, as the insane angel settled across from her.

"He was...confrontational." He smiled brightly at her. "Your soul is beautiful."

"Thank you."

"But enshrouded by sadness. Why are you unhappy Hermione?"

"I'm not unhappy Cas. It's just the past catches up with you sometimes."

"I wouldn't know about that."

Hermione laughed quietly.

"I suppose you wouldn't." She murmured. "Do you want to stay for dinner or get back to Meg?"

"Did you know that a group of crows is called a murder? Which is strange because they're scavengers by my Father's design."

She hummed quietly to herself, listening to him talk. Well babble really. She brushed a stray feather off the table.

"Speaking of crows...Castiel why are your feathers black?"

Castiel smiled and moved closer to her until her nose almost touched his scrubs. He bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Soot."

She blinked and he reappeared on the other side of the room, wings half spread behind him.

"Soot?"

"When I rescued your brother from Hell, my grace was stained. Just as hell left it's mark on Dean, it too left a mark on me."

"Makes sense. Castiel you need to go back to Meg. She's worried."

Castiel tipped his head back, smiling gently.

"She's like you. So much history and pain. She's young though. Younger than me at least. You're all younger than me."

"Well that's what happens when you're immortal. You tend to get older."

Castiel sighed and for just a second she thought he was lucid. And then that dreamy smile she was starting hate reappeared.

"It's jello for pudding tonight." He announced.

"Jelly." Hermione corrected quietly, holding her arms out to say goodbye. He hugged her, with the air of a man who wasn't quite sure why he was doing this but was doing it anyway and kissed her forehead.

"You can let go now Cas."

Castiel's wings snapped open and he vanished.

* * *

When the end did come, none of them were expecting it. Which in all honesty is how the end should come. Without warning, so the universe can have the element of surprise in gutting you open and leaving you to bleed out.

* * *

"Hermione..." Dean gasped out. She ignored him and kept applying field bandages to all the wounds she could find. There were many. Crowley was nothing if not thorough. "Run!"

She shook her head and sat back on her heels, pressing his knife into his hand.

"If they get past me, you will defend yourself." She ordered, falling easily back into a persona she hadn't touched in years.

"RUN DAMMIT!" Dean bellowed.

"I love you." She whispered, ignoring him. Sam stared at her pleading with her silently to leave. To run and be safe. To do anything other than what she was planning.

She smiled at him, a few stray tears trailing down her face, a hand on each of their shoulders. The boys were a mess. If Castiel hadn't found them and brought them to her, she couldn't imagine what would have happened to them.

They were in no condition to fight though. Both were slumped, bleeding against the wall of the abandoned house and the only thing between them and the forces of hell was one locked door. Castiel would be no help. He'd burned himself out rescuing them from Crowley. He'd dropped them with her and then vanished in a blaze of white as the demons scrawled anti-angel wards on the side of the safe house.

It was just her left.

"Winchesters together." She whispered, standing and turning to face the door.

Dean could see her hands shaking, knuckles white in fear as she stood her ground.

Sam groaned something which, through a broken jaw, she easily ignored.

"I don't want to do this." She whispered. "I don't want you to hate me. But I'm doing this to save you. Forgive me?" She asked quietly.

The door didn't break. It splintered, shattered into infinitesimal pieces under the pressure of the power battering against it. Crowley strode in, carefully brushing the dust from the shoulders of his wool coat.

"Hello boys." He straightened his cuffs. "It's nice to see you again, after your angel interrupted our little play session, I hope..."

It was then he looked up and registered her presence in the room.

"Who the hell are you?"

Hermione chuckled, coming across as a lot more confident than Dean knew she really felt.

"I am a lot of things. I am Hermione Winchester. I am the woman whose brothers you sent back broken." She hissed in fury and held up one hand, the hand with the burn across the centre of her palm. "I am also the woman who is going to kill you."

Crowley laughed.

"Oh yeah. How are you going to do that then?"

She smiled.

"Like this." And using a the blade Dean had had stashed in his pocket, she sliced across the runes, breaking the seal. The wave of pure energy swept across the room, forcing Crowley to take a step back. Hermione's hair fanned out around her shoulders, her eyes glowed golden and she excluded power. It reminded Dean of the first time he'd seen Castiel smite a demon. Raw power.

The doorway shone with a blue sheen, keeping the furious demons away from their master. Hermione easily tuned out the noise.

"What the hell was that?" He asked.

"That was me unleashing something I've kept locked up inside me for the last five years. Now, you see my body generates magic. It's part of who I am. Normally this fight would be difficult for us both." Hermione flicked her wrist and her wand slipped into it, the wood quickly growing sticky with her blood. "But I've been damming that for so long. I've got power to wipe every stinking demon who dared defile my family from the earth. _Incarserous." _

Thick chains wrapped themselves around the King of Hell, faster than he could blink. He stood there stunned, his mouth gaping unattractively, as he wobbled on his feet, bound by the demon traps that she'd conjured beneath him.

"But that's impossible." He whispered as he tried to vanish. "Who are you? What demon did you make a bargain with because I promise you I will drag to hell myself if I have to. You will beg me for mercy, I promise you that. No damn witch can hold me, you arrogant bitch." He bellowed.

"I told you. But maybe you need more of an introduction. My name _was_ Hermione Granger. I _was_ a third of the Golden Trio. I _am_ the brightest witch since Rowena herself. I _am_ one of the strongest natural born wizards in nearly a hundred years. I _have_ defeated monsters much bigger than you. You think Sam and Dean are bad? They haven't got anything on their little sister." She smirked at him. "How many demons are lurking outside this house? Twenty? Thirty?"

"A hundred of the highest ranking demons under my command. Along with an entire pack of hellhounds." Crowley snorted, fighting against the chains that kept him immobile. "Not that you'll get to them, Sorceress."

"Been a long time since anyone's called me that. But I will, believe me. Because you did one thing you should never do to a Winchester."

"And what's that kitten?" He sneered.

Hermione smiled and flexed her left palm, silently summoning the machete like knife Dean had bought her for her birthday and curled her fingers around it.

"Threaten my brothers." She called over her shoulder, never taking her eyes from the King of Hell. "Dean do you remember how I spent months etching this blade with runes and you thought I was mad?" She smiled slightly and dropped her voice to an intimate whisper. "Well to a human these runes do nothing. But to a demon, a creature of hell...well Crowley can you tell me what the runes of Merlin will do to you?"

The King of Hell went as white as parchment.

"But the magical enclaves vanished. Those runes were lost." He gasped out.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Lost? Hardly. Just unappreciated. You see Merlin invented these runes to stop evil. To restore balance. Now if you engrave a blade with the runes of ending, death, banishment, light, power, fire, destruction and every other possible variant? You end up with a weapon which could kill Satan himself. Which is what this was intended for. To rip Lucifer and Michael apart the next time they came for my brothers. Seems a shame to waste it on you really."

She spun on her heel, reappeared directly behind him and sunk the blade straight through his neck.

There was a thunk as the grisly spoil hit the floor, Crowley's head fixed with a permanent look of surprise on his face, as his body crumbled to ash. As deaths went it was fairly anti climactic.

Hermione smiled and suddenly you could see the family resemblance. Because there was that smile, that Dean wore when he won a fight. That Sam wore when high on demon blood. It was a look which made you question their sanity, but never their nerve or determination.

She frowned slightly and gazed at her brothers, who were wide eyed and staring at her, as though they'd never seen her before.

She flicked her fingers, silently banishing the angel wards.

"Castiel." She whispered, taking her eyes off her brothers, although she was unable to get their looks of betrayal and horror out of her mind.

A quiet rustle and he appeared at her elbow, wings curled protectively around her.

"You always knew, didn't you, that it would be like this?"

The angel frowned, pale and sweaty but somehow still standing.

"It was written that the Winchester sister would survive the magical war only to bind her magic." He shrugged. "No one knew what happened after that."

She gave a tired smile.

"Castiel you always were a truly terribly liar. Look after my brothers." She turned to go through the ruined door way when a hand caught at her elbow. She smiled gently at Castiel, who gazed down at her, frowning slightly.

"I can come back for you."

Hermione frowned at him.

"Castiel the entire demon hierarchy is out there. That barrier won't hold them out for much longer. I can trap them in their vessels..."

"The amount of energy that will require..."

She frowned at him

"The _only_ way to give you enough time to get my brothers away is to face them. I can take care of myself. I'll Apparate away when I can." She lied.

He shook his head, already guessing her intention.

"You will be killed going out there. You know this." He countered.

She shrugged.

"_There dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart_."

"I don't understand that reference."

She shook her head.

"You weren't supposed to. Remember your promise."

Castiel nodded and kissed her lips gently, before leaning back and smiling at her.

"Go in peace _cor meum_. I will come back for you."

Hermione smiled gently, and tightened her grip on her wand and her knife, not daring to look back at her brothers. She couldn't bare to see the looks of horror that would be on their faces as she dissolved the shield against the door.

* * *

Onwards then.

* * *

It took nearly thirty demons to finally kill her. One witch can do a significant amount of damage. Hermione Winchester could take out an army. And she did. By the time Castiel got the energy up to come back for her she'd taken two blades to the chest. She died in his arms. It was the only time they ever saw the angel cry.

* * *

Sam and Dean recovered. They went home and began to look for all the signs they had ignored. The folder full of magical recipes. The shelves full of books which didn't make any sense. All those little details that they had overlooked, because they hadn't wanted to know. Hadn't wanted to acknowledge that she was just as tainted by the supernatural as they were.

"Why do you think she hid it?" Sam asked eventually.

Dean laughed slightly, gulping down whiskey straight from the bottle. It burned but it was worth it.

"Because we'd have put a bullet in her head."

"But what she said to Crowley, she didn't bargain for her magic. She was born with it. Whoever her mother was, she passed it on. Why didn't she try and get us to listen...?"

"Because she knew us. What she was went against everything we have ever learned." Dean glared at his brother. "We've been betrayed so many times, whose to say we'd have listened to her. I would have killed her just to keep you safe. Sister or not."

"But Cas knew..."

"She posed no threat." Dean jumped a foot in the air, sloshing alcohol down his front, as the angel appeared from nowhere behind him.

"Dammit Cas." He growled, tightening his grip on his bottle, resisting the urge to throw it. He succeeded but only because it would be a waste of good alcohol.

Damn he wanted to be drunk.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

Castiel cocked his head to one side and fixed his distant gaze on Sam.

"She meant you no harm. She loved you two. I could see it. And..." He went pink slightly. "I cared for her."

"Hang on." Sam got to his feet, towering over the angel. "That night...you kissed her! All those nights you weren't with us? Where did you go?"

Castiel shrugged.

"I came home." He said simply. He dropped a paper bag on the table with a bang. "I thought you would like to read this. Seeing as she had read the gospel of the prophet Chuck. It is her life, before she met you." He turned and left, heading for the grave in the garden, clutching a bag of seeds in one hand. He stopped in the doorway.

"It was always going to end like this Dean. There was nothing you could have done. Believe me. I tried."

"She was our SISTER!" Dean snarled, knocking the package to the floor. "We we're supposed to look after her. She was the only thing in our lives that some piece of crap demon hadn't ruined. How could we let her down like that?" He asked, tears streaming silently down his face.

"Because she was Hermione Winchester and it was her destiny to save you."

"Well destiny is a piece of shit!" Dean spat.

Castiel turned back.

"Dean I think you forget. I am an angel. I can see where history may change and you were at a turning point. Had she not been conceived, you both would have died under Crowley."

"So what? You're saying that she was born to save us? That's bullshit and you know it Cas."

"She was innocent." Sam whispered, his voice broken with sorrow. "Just like our mum and Jess. She didn't ask for this."

"She was never innocent." Castiel thundered, his wings silhouetting behind him as he lost his temper. "Hermione had been through more than you ever realised and she knew exactly what she was planning. I will not have you slander her soul to make her out as some kind of fool. She knew for long enough that the choice would come, either you or her."

They flinched. It had been a long time since they'd seen Castiel, Angel of the Lord, as opposed to Cas, their brother.

"She killed every demon that Crowley had brought against you and completely destroyed the demon hierarchy. Not even an Archangel has done that. She died to give you that life she always wanted for you. She is happy." Castiel smiled slightly. "I know she is."

"Is she in heaven?" Sam asked horsely, eyes pleading.

The angel nodded.

"If that is all, I have a promise to fulfil." Castiel shook a bag of seeds by way of an explanation and vanished.

Dean sighed, bending to pick up the package. It was a book, wrapped in brown paper. The cover contained a moving picture and for a moment Dean thought it was a holograph.

"Sammy, come and have a look at this."

Sam crowded over his shoulder and they gazed down at the moving photograph of their sister. Her hair was billowing out behind her, and her clothes were torn and dirty. She was covered in cuts and bruises, but she had never looked more like a Winchester.

Sam laughed, a broken harsh sound.

"I never noticed before." He muttered.

"Noticed what?"

"She's got your nose."

Dean smiled slightly. It was true. There was a ruin of a castle behind her and in her hand she held the wand they had buried her with.

"Hermione Granger." He read. "The-Witch-Who-Won."

* * *

_Hermione smiled. The table was covered in food, almost groaning under the weight and the room was full of people. The Weasleys, Harry, her parents, the Lupins, Sirius. They all had a seat in the library. It struck Hermione as a little strange that they were eating in a room dedicated to books but she couldn't question the logic. They could all read after dinner and talk. That'd be nice. Maybe she could get Ronald to read "Hogwarts: A History."._

"_Hermione?" She turned slightly and smiled at Dean as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He grinned at her, amazingly whole and unscathed, as was Sam who stood behind him, smiling gently as his hair flopped in his eyes. Dean tugged her into a hug which she happily returned. He smelled of leather and pie and of the Impala and everything which made him uniquely her brother. Dean passed her over to Sam who picked her up so he didn't have to bend down to hug her. _

"_I've missed you two." She whispered, into his shoulder. _

_Sam chuckled._

"_We've missed you too. Now is their any pie? Captain Jerkface won't stop going on about it."  
_

_"Bitch." Dean called, affectionately._

"_Be nice to Sam." She replied, knowing Sam was sticking his tongue out at Dean over her head, "And of course there is. And salad for you." Sam put her back on the ground and she watched as her brothers joined the party, making a beeline for the food. _

_She chuckled and stood in the corner, watching her family. They were all safe and sound and happy. It was almost too good to be true. _

_There was a rustle of wings and a pair of arms slipped around her waist. Hermione sighed and leaned her head back against his chest, tangling her fingers in his trench coat. _

"_Did you give them the book?" She asked quietly, unwilling to draw attention to herself. Her family always did worry too much._

"_I did. They miss you, but they are healing. Slowly."  
_

_She nodded._

"_That is to be expected. How are you Cas?"  
_

_She felt him shrug, a strangely human gesture for an Angel. He'd been spending too much time with them. _

"_I am healthy. I planted some seeds today. On your grave."  
_

_"Am I a part of the great design now?" She asked, smiling gently. _

_Castiel kissed the top of her head. _

"_You always were." He murmured into her hair._

_Hermione nodded. _

"_Look after my brothers for me." She ordered, watching Dean try and two slices of different pie into his mouth at the same time. He had never looked happier._

"_Of course."_

_Hermione nodded and didn't even blink when she felt the angel vanish. She mingled with the people, laughing and smiling. The library was extensive and her family were good company. _

_She had never been happier._

* * *

**A/N  
Firstly a lot of timelines have been tweaked to make this possible. Just go with it.**

**Gratitude for the title goes to Callum, in his epic Awesomeness.**

**I've had this in the pipeline for since September. **

**I would love to hear from you, so review or PM.**

**I'm unbeta'd on this one because it was too long to bother Genius with. He has Uni coursework... Any glaring mistakes let me know.**

**Once Again,**

**Hood out.**


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